


Switch (Rule63)

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending - at the end of the series, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Accidents, Sort of Canonical Death, Trust me - Stay with me, sort of Rule63 but not really Rule63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3625800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo had always known exactly who he was - at least, he thought he did before he started on this insane adventure with a bunch of crazy Dwarfs!   Honestly, leave it Dwarfs to throw everything Bilbo thought right out the window!   Hopefully Gandalf will know what to do ... hopefully.</p><p>(Or the one where Bilbo is changed from male to female!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts), [northerntrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/northerntrash/gifts), [bubbysbub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbysbub/gifts).



> I have never liked Rule63 - in fact it makes my teeth itch. However, I am a firm believer in 'whatever floats your boat' and if Rule63 is someone's cup of tea, so be it. Not to mention, I am amazed at the number of fics that use this rule. So this is MY attempt at ... exploring that which I would normally NEVER explore.

* * *

 

 

            Bilbo never even knew what hit him.

            Fourteen days at Rivendell had done wonders for Bilbo Baggins.  Proper baths, a proper bed with clean sheets, good food, delightful evenings around a warm hearth, not to mention the conversations and insightful discussions with the Elves, all of which led to bringing Bilbo’s sense of equilibrium back into order.

            And the Dwarrows had benefitted as well; they were just loath to admit it.  The younger ones, Fili, Kili and Ori, all seemed to take the time to enjoy themselves and their youthfulness was given free reign - to a point; Dwalin was always near to ‘supervise.'  What exactly what he was supervising or watching for, however, Bilbo never could figure out.  Balin, Dori and Gloin were more than likely to be found together, conversing and enjoying their pipes, while Oin and Bifur sat nearby communicating in Iglishmêk.   Nori and Bofur always seemed on the verge of some prank or other, but their laughter was infectious and the Elves never seemed to mind.  And Bombur was more than thrilled to finally have good food at his fingertips; Bilbo understood that well enough.

            Oh sure, Thorin continued to grump about and scowl, but Bilbo could see the dark circles under his eyes had faded some what, and the worry lines of his forehead evened out a bit, and surely Bilbo wasn’t the only one of them to notice that Thorin looked stronger and more—centered, from all the extra sleep.  Why even his clothes were cleaner and Thorin’s hair was washed, which was nice because Bilbo thought it so beautiful; not that he would ever say such a thing to Thorin directly!  So, over all, Bilbo had to admit that some downtime did wonders for Thorin.

            Not that Bilbo was watching Thorin, mind you!

            What a ridiculous thought.

            Completely.

            So it was, that the night before the White council--Bilbo had overheard Thorin's and Gandalf's conversation--that the company were well prepare for the Dwarrows to slip out of Rivendell as soon as the council convened.  Thorin had quietly told everyone to have their packs and themselves readied so that they could leave at a moment’s notice. 

            They were also told to act normal, give nothing away; don’t give the Elves even a hint as to what the Company’s plans were.   The Dwarrows gathered together—all except Thorin, Gandalf and Balin as they had gone off to finalize details—and had made a small, warm fire, cooked food, laughed and joked and reveled in their last night of comfort.  Most sat about in their … ‘ _private clothes’_ , but Bilbo was not one of them; while the Dwarrows wore full body undergarments, Bilbo’s were short and rather thin, showing far too much flesh for him to prance about for all to see!  Good heavens; what would Thorin think of him?!

            Not that Thorin’s thoughts were any concern of Bilbo’s.

            Certainly not.

            It in that atmosphere of fun and enjoyment that Bilbo relaxed and decided not to pay any attention to the nonsense around him.  He stood apart, standing just at the top of the stairs that led up to their private area, looking out over the moonlit valley, soaking in the view that he knew he would miss in the coming days and months, while the others played behind him.

            “Stop messing about!” Dori shouted.

            “We’re sparring,” Kili said with a laugh, clashing swords with his brother.

            “You wouldn’t want us to be unprepared?” Fili added; his sword once again meeting Kili’s.

            “If you lose a finger,” Dori tutted, “that won’t leave you very prepared, now will it?”

            “Leave ‘em be,” Nori countered.  “You’re as bad with them as you are with Ori.”

            “How did I get dragged into this?” Ori asked.

            “They need even more supervision than Ori does,” Dori answered Nori.

            “I don’t need supervision!” Ori protested.

            “Ori's more than capable if you ask me,” Dwalin offered quietly, which got Ori blushing furiously.

            “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you, Mister Dwalin!” Dori said dismissively, before turning back to the princes.  “I said to stop!”

            “Oh, don’t be an old fusspot,” Kili laughed, even when Fili knocked Kili’s sword right out of the dark-haired prince’s hand; clearly the bow was better for Kili.

            “Yield?” Fili asked his brother, laughing himself.

            “Never!” Kili stated with mirth and proceeded to grab Gandalf’s staff that was propped up in the corner.  “See how you like being turned into a toad or a rabbit!”

            “That’s cheating!” Fili laughed with his brother as he too made a grab for the wizard’s staff.   “Maybe I should turn you into an Elf lover!  Oh wait … you already are!”

            Everyone laughed at that one and both princes wrestled back and forth, the staff caught tight in both their hands.  Having so much fun, it was only natural that they would miss the slight glow starting to build at the end of the stave, until suddenly a jet of pure blue-white light shot out and hit Bilbo square in the chest, engulfing him in brilliance and pushing him back so that he tumbled down the stairs that were right next to him.

            “Bilbo!” several members cried out and they all rushed forward and down the stairs to assist their burglar.

            The Hobbit was in a curled up heap on the landing below; unmoving.

            No one seemed willing to touch him.

            “Is he—” Kili asked in a strained voice.

            “I can see him breathing,” Ori stated.

            “Should we turn him over?” Fili asked.  He was clearly uneasy at Bilbo just laying face-down. 

            “I think we should fetch Gandalf straight away,” Dori said firmly.

            “I’ll go,” Ori ran off up the stairs and the others could hear him shouting Gandalf’s name.

            The others only stood around and watched, still afraid they would do more damage than good, but it wasn’t long before they heard the hurried steps of Ori, Gandalf, Thorin and Balin coming from behind.

            “… and then he just went down the stairs!” Ori was saying as he and the other three came within earshot.

            “Everyone move!” Gandalf shouted and everyone obeyed.

            “What the hell were you two thinking?!” Thorin demanded, grabbing the young princes, spinning them around and pulling them away from the group.

            The princes babbled, trying to make excuses, but Thorin’s face only grew more angry and red with each passing minute.

            Gandalf was standing over the Hobbit, muttering unknown, indistinct words but finally the others noticed their burglar moving.

            “Oh, Thank—” Balin started and then gasped as Gandalf moved out of the way.  “Sweet Mahal!”

            “What?!” Thorin asked pointedly, trying to push the others out of the way so he could see for himself.  “What is it?”

            “I’m okay,” the Hobbit said, slowly getting up.  “I’m fine.”

            “Fine?!” Dwalin shouted out while the others could only gape.  “Look at you?!”

            “Look at what?” the Hobbit asked.

            “Not what,” Bofur said.  “You!”

            “Mahal’s balls!” Kili and Fili said in unison.

            “I don’t believe it!” Nori said.

            “YOU’RE A FEMALE!” Thorin thundered.

 

 

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets an even greater shock.

* * *

 

           

            Bilbo only had time to register Thorin’s declaration, look down, see for himself, _yes indeed, the evidence was quite visible_ , before he—naturally—fainted.

            Who could blame him?

            When he did awake, finally, he found that he was in a small room, alone, lying on a large bed and feeling very uncomfortable.  Well, tight would be closer to the truth.  His pants were too tight around his hips and his waistcoat felt like a vice around his chest; he could just about breathe. 

            Bilbo struggled to get off the bed, huffing and puffing, his waistcoat not withstanding, and made his way over to a large Elf sized mirror in the far corner.

            It was a case where seeing was _still_ not believing.

            To say he was shocked was beyond an understatement; he was nearly floored.  (Truly, he felt faint again).  His hair had grown very long and now hung halfway down his back— _Good heavens, all this hair is heavy!_   His waistcoat was too tight, because it was squeezing his rather full breasts— _Yavanna’s Garden!  Were they bigger than before?_ He quickly undid the waistcoat and felt much better— _Oh, how nice to be able to take a full breath!_ His pants were stretched over fuller hips but luckily his waist was actually a little trimmer— _Mother had a figure like this._

His mother.

            If he could be glad about any one thing, it was that he still looked like him in the face.; well, basically.  His eyebrows were slight thinner and his cheekbones a little more prominent and maybe—he couldn’t really tell—his eyelashes were a tab bit longer?  Maybe not.  But overall, even with all the changes to his body, he could still recognize the face looking back at him.

            No, not totally true.  He saw his mother more in his reflection now than he did his father. 

            Didn’t he?

            If this adventure had taught him anything at all before arriving at Rivendell, it was that he was more adaptable than even he had given himself credit for.  Riding ponies, sleeping in the wild, fighting Trolls, running from Wargs, avoiding Orcs, dealing with Wizards—dealing with nutty wizards on crazy, rabbit pulled sleighs—DWARROWS!

            But this?!  This was beyond adaptable. 

            He didn’t know how to be a woman!  How was he to act?  What was he to say?  What about clothes—his current ones didn’t fit now.  What would the others say?  How would _they_ act?  Not well, if what he remembered of their initial reactions were any indication.  Will this spell or hex or curse, last a life time?  If it was temporary, when would it wear off?  Would Gandalf be able to hurry it along?  Could Gandalf change him back?  Oh Eru; what if Gandalf _couldn’t ever_ change him back? 

            By all that was sacred, what the hell was he supposed to do _now_?!

            There was a knock on the door, and then two Elves; a male and a female, entered.

            “Good evening,” the female stated.

            “Hello,” Bilbo was confused but not for long.

            “Lord Elrond,” the female continued, “told us of your … situation and asked that we come and measure you for clothing.”

            _Oh thank Yavanna!_   “I see.  I have to confess, these don’t quite fit right anymore.”

            “Indeed,” the male said softly.  “We can easily have a few things made for you before the night is over.”

            “So quickly?”  Bilbo was amazed. 

            “Of course,” the female said.  “We’re Elves.”

            _As if that explains it._ “Very well,” Bilbo conceded.  “I’d be most appreciative.  Although, if you just want to alter the ones I have on …”

            The two Elves exchanged a quick look.

            “Not only are your clothes already starting to fray,” the male stated, gesturing to Bilbo’s jacket and pant’s knees, “but we can make clothing more suitable.”

            Bilbo smiled at that.  Having clothes that were especially made for this journey would be appreciated.  He had woefully picked the wrong things for adventuring and he would very much like items that could withstand the hardships he knew he was going to face further along. 

            _Maybe clothes in a nice, soft but durable doeskin would be lovely._ “Thank you,” Bilbo said finally.  “That would be wonderful.”

            The two elves quickly took measurements and asked about favorite colors, which Bilbo liked; he could picture leather dyed in Hobbit colors.  That would make them even more appreciated.

            As the Elves made to leave, Bilbo couldn’t help but ask, “Have you seen or heard from Gandalf?”  Frankly, he was a tiny bit irked that the Grey Wizard hadn’t been there when he awoke.

            “The last I heard,” the female said, “he was still in deep conversation with Lord Elrond, King Thorin and his advisor.”

            Bilbo nodded.  He figured they were all discussing his … condition and in all likelihood, they would be along shortly.   “Thank you.”

            As the two left, Bilbo took off his jacket and waistcoat, sat upon on the oversized bed and made himself comfortable.

            _It can’t be too long before they come with news._ Or so Bilbo thought.

            Thought wrongly, anyway.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Hours passed and still no word from Gandalf, or Elrond or any Dwarf; let alone Thorin!  Bilbo had ended up cat-napping a few times while he waited, and while he was sorely tempted to go looking for Gandalf and the others, he knew that if he did that and they were coming to see him, they could all end up wandering around Rivendell, looking for each other and wasting time. 

            No, better that Bilbo sat put and wait.

            Finally, after what seemed an eternity, and just as Bilbo was about to say, hang it all, and go looking for Gandalf, there was another knock on the door.

            “Come in,” Bilbo called as he hurried off the bed.

            “Hello, again,” the female Elf from before entered; alone this time, and she was carrying a small parcel.

            “Did you forget something?” Bilbo asked.  Surely they weren’t—

            “We’ve completed your clothing,” she said,

            “Already?” Bilbo was more than surprised; they had only taken his measurements a few hours before—no more than three, he was sure. 

            “There were more than Saeldir and myself working on your garments,” the female said.

            _Saeldir.  Well at least I know his name._   “Thank you, miss—”

            “Aeweth,” the Elf said with a small bow of her head and she placed her bundle on the bed.

            “Thank you, Aeweth,” Bilbo stated with a small nod of his own.  “Your efforts are most appreciated.”

            Bilbo immediately opened the package and stared.  There was a lovely doeskin shirt dyed a pale yellow and embossed with tiny flowers and vines in a repeating pattern, a leather bodice, also embossed with vines, dyed a deep forest green, while the peasant shirt, petticoat and knee-length bloomers were all of a light, but tight-weaved bright white twill and each trimmed in an islet lace.  Everything was beautiful, but—

            “These are female clothes,” Bilbo said flatly.

            “Yes,” Aeweth said, clearly not picking up the problem.

            “But, I’m not—”

            “You are now.” She finally understood.

            “Yes, but—” Bilbo didn’t want to be unkind.  “The Elves and Dwarfs don’t usually dress that differently between the sexes?”

            “True,” Aeweth replied.  “But then, you are neither an Elf nor a Dwarf.  You are a Hobbit and they do not dress alike.”

            Bilbo felt a pang of guilt.  Aeweth was right, Hobbits, like their cousins, Men, did indeed dress the sexes quite differently.  The Elves had simply respected his culture’s tendencies and made clothes that went along with Hobbit society.  Despite when he might be going through, Bilbo shouldn’t repay such generous thoughtfulness with rudeness or ingratitude.  And as Aeweth pointed out, at the moment he was without a doubt female.

            “Thank you,” Bilbo said, offering a sincere smile.

            Aeweth looked at the Hobbit for long few moments.  “I’m sorry if we have not met your expectations.”

            Bilbo shook his head.  “On the contrary; it is I that should offer you an apology.”

            Aeweth nodded in acceptance.  “If there is anything else you need.  Please do not hesitate to call upon us.”  She left the room and left Bilbo alone with his thoughts.

            It was only minutes later that there was another knock.

            “Yes?” Bilbo called, wondering if Aeweth had forgotten something.

            The door to the bedroom opened and Bilbo was greeted by the sight of Gandalf, Elrond, Balin and Thorin entering the room.  Elrond’s face betrayed nothing— _bloody Elf and his air of neutrality_.  Gandalf had concern in his eyes but he seemed calm and collected— _I hope he has something up his sleeve._   Balin gave Bilbo a small smile that faded quickly, but at least the Hobbit felt comforted— _if nothing else, at least Balin isn’t looking at me as someone to be pitied._  

            But Thorin wore a dark look that Bilbo had come to realize meant the Dwarf King was truly angry, perhaps even— _is he disgusted?  Repulsed?_   Thorin only scowled down at the clothes on Bilbo’s bed and seemed to avoid, or rather outright refused, to meet Bilbo’s eyes. 

            _That just couldn’t be good._

            “How are you feeling?” Gandalf asked. 

            “Uncomfortable,” Bilbo said.  It was true on so many levels.

            “I’m sure,” Gandalf said.

            “When will this … _thing_ , wear off?”  Bilbo demanded right off.  There was just no point in pretending or tip-toeing around on eggshells.

            Gandalf and Elrond shared a quick before Elrond spoke up.  “At present, we are unsure.”

            “Unsure?” Bilbo parroted back.  “Why ever not?!”  He was getting cross and pointed at Gandalf.  “You’re a wizard for Yavanna’s sake!  Surely you know how to undo this!”

            “Now, Bilbo—” Gandalf started.

            “There is no record,” Elrond interrupted, “in any reference, anywhere in my library, that records anything like this happening before.”

            “Regardless,” Bilbo stated and gesturing again at Gandalf, “it was his bloody staff that did this!  Are you telling me—”

            “I have no idea how this magic came about,” Gandalf confessed outright.

            “Can’t you force the staff to just … undo its last spell or something?”

            “I’d have to know what spell it worked to even begin.”

            “How could you not know?!”

            “Because it wasn’t I that worked it!”  Gandalf was getting testy.  “The princes shouldn’t have been able to work the staff to start with, let along perform this kind of magic!   Until I figure that out, there is little we can get from the staff itself.”

            Bilbo huffed out of frustration and turned back to Elrond.  “Yours can’t be the only repository of knowledge?  Surely we can contact one of the other wizard’s; maybe they know something even if Gandalf doesn’t?!”

            “As I mentioned to you once before,” Gandalf offered, calm once again.  “The blue wizards are lost, they can be of no help.  Sadly, while this is beyond Radagast’s abilities, even if he were stronger, he deals with plants and beasts, he has no knowledge of this kind of magic.  Saruman might be able to help but he is traveling here as we speak and even if a crow does find him, there is no guarantee that he will have the answer at his fingertips; I doubt he travels with his full library.”

            “There must be another … library or other, of knowledge,” Bilbo countered.  “Surely Elrond and the White Wizard cannot be the only collectors of books in all of Middle-Earth!”            

            “The only other place greater than them all,” Balin offered, taking a step forward, “was the great library of Erebor.  We collected the wisdom of Dwarrows, Men and Elves.  But I needn’t point out, that option is closed to us.”

            “No it’s not,” Bilbo said.  “We are traveling there.  If this spell doesn’t wear off before we arrive, then once we do, we can—”

            “You are not going,” Thorin stated firmly.

            “Excuse me?” Bilbo was sure he heard wrong.

            “I didn't stutter,” Thorin growled out, still refusing to look Bilbo in the eyes.  “Unless you revert to your … _natural state_ by the time we take our leave, you will remain behind.”

            “Now see here,” Bilbo was feeling desperate; not only did the possible information of helping him lie in Erebor, he was not about to abandon the quest, just because—

            “My decision is final!”  Thorin shouted.  “At this moment your contract is dissolved and you will remain behind!”  The Dwarf-king turned and opened the door to leave.

            “Thorin, please!” Bilbo cried but was held back by Gandalf as Thorin walked out.

            “I’m sorry, laddie—” Balin said and then winced.  “I mean, lassie.  It was dangerous enough for a male Hobbit, but it is simply out of the question for a lady to continue such a quest.  I’m sorry.”  With that, he too turned and walked out the door.

            “Gandalf,” Bilbo started, turning to his friend for help.

            “I’m sorry, Bilbo,” Gandalf replied sadly.  “But Thorin is correct.  You should remain here where it’s safe.  This journey is no place for a woman.”

            “You are welcome to stay for as long as is needed,” Elrond offered politely.  “We will protect and care for you, gladly.”

            However, to Bilbo, both men sounded far from concerned.

            They sounded patronizing.

            They sounded patronizing and condescending.

            They sounded like patronizing, condescending, _misogynists_!

            Fine!  If they were going to treat him like a sterotypical girl, then he would bloody well act like one and storm off and cry!

            ALONE!

 

 

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo get's his POV redirected

* * *

 

 

            Despite what many thought, Bilbo hated to cry.  It usually took an extreme emotion, be it joy or sadness—even anger—to rouse such a response; his parent’s funerals, his coming of age party, the first time Lobelia insulted him in public. 

            But none of those compared to now.

            In a way, he was feeling his emotions tenfold; joy because the adventure made him feel alive in ways he never had before, sadness because now it was over—suddenly and without warning, hurt by Gandalf’s dismissive attitude, Elrond’s patronizing demeanor, Balin’s hollow apologies, and last but not least Thorin’s undeniable, and quite obvious, hatred and disgust. 

            Bilbo never asked for this!

            He never had a choice on the matter!

            And now, others were making decision regarding his life, his well-being, his welfare, even his risks, without consulting, asking, regarding, or even just simple consideration for his wants and wishes!

            It was unfair and totally humiliating!

            So, yes, quite frankly, Bilbo felt he had every right in the world to cry!  Bilbo had found a lovely, secluded spot in the gardens and it was here that tears were given free reign.

            But, as the tears ran dry and all the sobs turned to sniffles, Bilbo thought that maybe it was best to just go home, stay inside and wait for Gandalf to return and fix the problem. 

            But then what would he tell everyone?!  It wasn’t like he could stay inside for months or years on end!  Should he adopt a new name?  Pretend to be a far distant cousin?  Get Gandalf or Elrond or— _someone, anyone_ —to sign papers that even the Thain could not question and just take up residence in Bag End? 

            _Right.  Because Lobelia would be so willing to just let that happen!_

            Bilbo felt like crying all over again.

            “Why do you cry?” a soft voice, sounded behind Bilbo.

            Bilbo turned and saw Aeweth standing behind him.  “I cry because I’m a girl.”

            “Why do you feel that is a reason to cry?”

            “Because I am not a boy.”

            Aeweth raised an eyebrow at that.  “I am not a boy and yet I do not cry.”

            Bilbo huffed out sigh.  “But you were born a girl.  It’s different.”

            “How?”

            “It …” Bilbo was getting frustrated.  “It just is!”

            Aeweth tilted her head but made no other gesture; Bilbo thought that it was her way of contemplating, rather than a nod of acknowledgement.   The Elf came forward and sat next to Bilbo.  “If you lost a limb, would you be less of a man?”

            “Well, no, but—”

            “If you lost your sight, would you be less of a man?”

            “Of course—”

            “If you lost your sense of speech or hearing, if you could no longer use one of your hands or became infirmed, would you be less of a man than one who had not?”

            “But—”

            “If your mind was addled or your memories gone, would you be turned out into the streets like so much refuse?”

            “I should hope not, but—”

            “Then I fail to see what you are crying over,” Aeweth stated gently.

            Bilbo wanted to protest but suddenly, all the arguments felt—well, wrong.

            “You have your mind, you are not infirmed, you have your senses about you and your sense of self has not changed,” the Elf offered.  “Yes, your gender has changed, but why in the world should that change anything about you as a person?  As a being?  As someone worthy?”

            Bilbo had no answer.

            “Gender has no impact on your abilities,” Aeweth continued.  “It does not dictate your path, your fate, your goals, or your destination.  Unless …” She trailed off in thought.

            “Unless, what?” Bilbo had to know.

            “Unless you, yourself, believe it does,” Aeweth stated.

            Bilbo felt a strange tingling sensation run through him.   “But Thorin won’t allow me to go!  Neither would Gandalf or Lord Elrond!”

            “Who gave you permission to go on this quest to begin with?”

            “Well, no one!  I made the decision myself!”

            “Then why must you seek someone else’s permission now to continue?”

            “Because, I …” Once again, Bilbo was drawing a blank.

            “Did your mother seek your father’s permission?”

            Bilbo laughed at that one!  “My mother was a Took!  She didn’t ask _anyone’s_ permission about _anything_!”

            “And, are you not her daughter?”

            “No, I’m her …” No, he wasn’t her son anymore.

            “I wonder what your mother would say.”

            Belladonna Took would be appalled and shout the house down if anyone told her what she could and could not do!  She would just get up and march ….

            _Mahal’s balls!_   That exactly what Bilbo was going to do!  Why, he was being just as much a misogynistic as the others—no, he was worse, because he was doing it to himself! 

            As Belladonna was witness, Bilbo was still a Took!  And no one, and that meant NO ONE – KING OR NOT – was going to tell Bilbo Baggins what Bilbo Baggins was or was not going to do!

            “Thank you, Aeweth,” Bilbo said, getting up from his seat and marching right back to his room.

           

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Bilbo’s anger had him steaming all the way back to his room.  Walking in, he didn’t even hesitate anymore—he threw his clothes in a heap, turned to the wash basin, cleaned up and proceeded to put on his new clothes.  

            When he was done, he turned around and looked in the mirror and stilled.  There before him was the woman he had become and he—

            No, that wouldn’t do!   If Bilbo was going to adapt it better start right now and with HER! 

            Bilbo looked in the mirror and before HER was the lady SHE had become!              

            _Damn right!_

            But she felt something was missing.  _What is it?  Oh yes!_ She raced over to the corner and picked up her sword.  Strapping it around her waist, she returned to the mirror and smiled—it was _exactly_ what she needed! 

            She wondered for a minute if she should adopt a female name, but she rejected that almost immediately.  She was born Bilbo Baggins and she would continue on as Bilbo Baggins—she wouldn’t let anyone, not even herself, change who she was!

            It was at that moment she spied the contract sticking out of pack and something else came to mind.  She hurried over and pulled it out, and a quick read told everything she suspected and all that she needed!

            _Damn you, Thorin Oakenshield!  Just see if you can stop me!_

 

 

 


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no stopping Bilbo now ...

* * *

 

 

            “Don’t think you’re going anywhere without me,” Bilbo said, marching over to the Company as they were preparing to leave.

            Everyone last one of the Dwarrows stood stone still and gawped at the approaching Hobbit.  Whether it was for the way she was dressed or because of her near insolent tone of voice, Bilbo didn’t know and, frankly at that moment, didn’t care!

            It was, of course, Thorin who first broke the stunned silence.

            “I have already told you,” Thorin said, striding forward.  “You will remain—”

            “I will not remain behind and that’s final!” Bilbo spat out; both hands on her hips and meeting Thorin’s sharp glare with one of her own.

            “My _decision_ is final!” Thorin growled out, folding his arms across his chest and standing firm.

            “Very well,” Bilbo said, shifting her weight to one foot and letting her expression turn to smugness, “I will take my one/fourteenth share now.”

            Thorin didn’t move but Bilbo would share she saw a twitch in one eye.

            “What are you talking about,” Thorin said evenly.

            “According to the contract—”

            “I dissolved your contract.”

            “Ah, but there’s the rub,” Bilbo said coolly, “ _you can’t_ dissolved the contract.  According to the signed contract’s rules, the contract is binding unless the Dwarrow council of elders ... who drew up the contract initially ... votes and agrees to dissolve it, or I fail to fulfill my end of the contract.  Since the Dwarrow council in the Blue Mountains is not present, nor have we reached Erebor as yet … I can hardly be faulted for failing when I have not had the opportunity to try … the contract cannot be dissolved.”

            Thorin turned an angry shade for red and once again refused to meet Bilbo’s gaze.  But the growl that he made proved to Bilbo that she was in the right.

            “Hang the council!” Thorin finally snarled.  “I am king, and I—”

            “Will be seen as dishonorable,” Bilbo cut in, “if you go against the contract’s stated rules.  And I’d like to point out that under Section Three, Paragraph Two, Rule Sixty-three, it says, and I quote, “ _Any dissolution of this contract, once signed and agreed upon, that is outside the contract’s specified quid pro quo, will result in the contractor’s_ … that’s you … _immediate forfeiting of the contract’s payment to the contractee_ … that’s me.”

            Thorin once again could only stand and stare like a Dwarrow Statue.

            But Bilbo smiled wickedly.  “Therefore, either you allow me to continue on, or you must forfeit a sum equal to that of one/fourteenth, or approximately seven percent, of Erebor’s entire treasure to me … immediately.”

            Thorin started to breathe like a ragging bull.  “You would be lost and a burden!  You have no place among us, because you're … you’re a … you’re a _woman_!”

            Bilbo didn’t flinch and had actually been expecting the argument.  “Well, spotted,” she said; cocking an eyebrow, “But I have to wonder, how would your _sister_ take to such a declaration?”

            The Dwarrows went wide-eyed at such a statement and a couple actually gasped.  Bilbo didn’t need to turn to hear Kili whisper loudly, “Mum would be pissed and end up queen,” or hear Fili reply, “Yeah, because she’d kill Uncle!”

            But Thorin had paled, and turned to his advisor. 

            “Balin,” Thorin said quietly. 

            Bilbo would almost swear, if she hadn’t known better, that Thorin sounded like he was lost himself; as if he was pleading with Balin.  But in the next moment, Bilbo turned to the white-haired Dwarf and was surprised; Balin was staring at Bilbo with a hard expression.  _Surely he can’t be that angry_ , Bilbo thought.  But then she could almost swear that there was more to the look than just anger.  However, in the next moment, Balin turned to Thorin and anything else that might be written in his eyes was lost.

            “I’m sorry, Thorin,” Balin answered softly.  “Bilbo is correct.  Either she comes, or you must forfeit one/fourteenth immediately.”

            “But you know that’s impossible!” Thorin hissed back.  “And I can’t have her—”

            “I know,” Balin replied sadly.  “But you have no choice.”

            Thorin’s expression turned an ugly red again and he looked as if he could grind stone between his teeth and spit out sand. 

            “Fine,” Thorin said, turning away and not even looking at Bilbo.  “But do not expect coddling or for anyone to pamper you along the way!”

            “So in other words,” Bilbo said, slinging her rucksack on her back and adjusting her sword on her hip.  “You’ll treat me as the doormat you always have.”

            She did not wait to see the stunned and hurt look in Thorin’s eye; Bilbo was already pushing past the Dwarrows and heading out of Rivendell at her own pace. 

            _He wants to play it tough,_ Bilbo thought, _then that’s fine; I’ll make it tough enough for him to cry uncle!_

 

 

 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are chores to be done ...

* * *

 

 

            “ _Mistress_ Baggins!” Thorin spat out, as if the title tasted foul.  “I suggest you keep up.”

            Bilbo glared daggers, but Thorin had already turned away.

            _Pig-headed Dwarf!  Won’t even let me have one last look at Rivendell!_

            As the first few days rolled by, Bilbo thought the others were taking to the change extremely well.  They weren’t overly chatty—not that she could really blame them, she was still getting used to things herself—and they snuck more sideways glances at her—again, hardly surprising given the circumstances—but they weren’t totally silent and when Bilbo caught them looking, they smiled, almost shyly, and seemed far from disgusted. 

            Unlike their leader.

            Thorin spoke barely a word and refused to look at her.  Expect for barking at Bilbo to keep up or not fall behind or something equally un-needing to be expressed, all conversation between them had dried up—there were no more casual questions, no more light comments, not even simple salutations of ‘Good morning’ or ‘Sleep well.’  And it wasn’t that Thorin _never_ looked at her, but the looks were fleeting, never lingering, and the Dwarf-king always had a scowl on his face or dark look in his eyes.  

            Always.

            But it was about four days in that Bilbo began to feel there was a problem.  It started with Kili, on the night of day two.  The small fire was started and Bilbo was just finishing laying out her bedroll.

            “Bilbo?” Kili asked quietly.

            “Yes,” Bilbo turned and found the young prince looking almost sheepish.  “Is there something wrong?”

            “I was wondering …” Kili hesitant to continue.

            _Oh, dear._ Bilbo thought.  _Here comes the awkward questions._

            “Do you …” Kili paused again before taking a deep breath and finishing.  “Do you think you could mend my shirt?”  He thrust out his reserve shirt and there was indeed a rip along the seam of the side.

            “Oh,” Bilbo was glad it was just that and not something like, _‘So, what does it feel like to have a vagina?’_ She almost laughed; sewing was the simplest of things.  “Of course.”

            Kili’s face broke into a huge grin.  “Thanks!”  He took off as Bilbo took the shirt and pulled out her small sewing kit that she had, thankfully brought along. 

            Working quickly but efficiently, she had it finished in a thrice and given back to Kili, who was overjoyed.  Before she could turn away, however, Fili asked whether Bilbo could mend his cloak, which had gotten caught on the edge of a jagged rock just earlier in the day.  Once again, Bilbo had the rip sown quickly and neatly.

            When she finally went to bed that night, Bilbo felt good.  The boys were at least being kind and talking with her and while she could easily point fingers and blame them for her current predicament, she had long ago forgiven them in the spirit of adapting and acceptance.  Besides, she was perfectly aware that they had meant no harm and that they had, indeed, felt badly right after it happened.  They were just young and rambunctious; easy things for a Hobbit to forgive.

            On day three, while they rested on a particularly wide area of the mountain pass, Bofur asked Bilbo if she would mend his hat; seemed that the sheep skin lining and the leather outer were separating at one point, and that just wouldn’t do.  Bofur was almost beside himself with worry—for his hat, of course.

            Bilbo had it done in no time and then they were back on the trail.

            That night, Bombur asked Bilbo to please assist with the cooking.  This was pleasing because Bombur had been very reluctant to let anyone help with the food preparation, even his brother, so Bilbo felt that it was an honor.   But when the stew was done, Bilbo had thought that Bombur, who had almost completely sat back and let Bilbo do the work, would take the food around to the others—as Bilbo had done when Bombur was cooking.

            “Are you tired?” Bombur had asked.  The large Dwarf had taken one of the two bowls that Bilbo had brought over, expecting Bombur to take them both and start handing them out.

            “Of course, I’m not tired!” Bilbo had declared.  Although it was a good amount, any Hobbit worth their weight could make a large pot of stew!

            “Oh, good,” Bombur said, sitting down and starting to eat; completely oblivious to Bilbo’s indignant look, “I thought you might be, given … you know.”

            “Know what?” Bilbo asked.

            “Well … everything,” Bombur shrugged.

            Bilbo had no words for that!  She just handed the other bowl to Bifur and turned away, going back to get more bowls and handing them out. 

            _Just what in the world was ‘Everything?’_ Bilbo wondered.  She wanted to argue the point right then and there but there were hungry mouths to feed and she thought it would be the height of rudeness to keep the others waiting while she and Bombur hashed it out.  She would just have to wait until dinner was over.

            However, when she had finally handed out the last bowl and was just finishing her own, she realized that not only was everyone else done—of course they were, she was the last to eat and thus the last to be done—but that they had all dumped their bowls in the empty stew pot and had gone on to lounge about!

            _Was no one going to clean up?_   She was disgusted!  She appreciated that Bombur had given her free reign over the food; she could even forgive him for taking the night ‘off’ and leaving her to hand out the dinner, but was she expected to clean up as well?!

            “Bilbo,” Nori said, coming up behind her.

            “Yes,” Bilbo replied with a huff, trying to calm herself; it wouldn’t do to be rude to Nori just because Bombur had pissed her off.

            “Do you think you might be able to get the stain out of my jacket?”

            Bilbo looked down and, sure enough, there was a large stain that looked like oil or something equally foul along the bottom hem of Nori’s jacket.

            “As you can see,” Bilbo said, motioning to the dirty dishes and pot, “Bombur has left me with quite a bit of _work_.”  Bilbo hoped that the hint would get around and others would take it and move to assist her.

            “Oh,” Nori nodded in understanding.  “Don’t worry, it’s okay.” He gave Bilbo a smile and placed a warm hand on her shoulder.  “The stain can wait until you’re done.”

            Bilbo only gawped as Nori walked back to his bedroll, flopped down and fell into conversation with Bofur.  Every word, in every language she knew, failed her at that moment.

            By the time she had washed all the bowls, the utensils, and the cooking pot, Bilbo was tired, ready for bed and, quite frankly, over these Dwarrows!  She was glad they weren’t excluding her but, Yavanna’s Tits, this was just a bit much!

            When she woke the next morning, she had realized that she overslept and hurried to see if there was breakfast. 

            There wasn’t any.

            “Did no one make something to eat?” Bilbo said, looking at the cold fire as if it was to blame.

            “Well, you did oversleep,” grumbled Nori who was walking passed.

            “What have I got to do with—”

            “We move out!” Thorin called, once again ignoring Bilbo.

            Almost all the Dwarrows looked grumpy and dejected all morning and Bilbo was at loss for what exactly was going on?!  Just because she had overslept didn’t mean they couldn’t have made themselves—

            A light seemed to go off in her head and it did not illuminate anything pleasant.

            “Bilbo,” Nori sounded coming up beside her.

            Bilbo only turned and stared at the pointed-hair Dwarf.  She knew what as coming now.

            “You never did get to that stain last night,” Nori sounded almost like he was scolding a naughty puppy. 

            _Or a little girl_ , Bilbo thought bitterly.  “What’s your point?”

            “Well,” Nori said with pointed look.  “I would like it done as soon as possible.”

            “And why not ask Dori?” Bilbo know the answer, she just wanted to hear it.

            “Because,” Nori laughed and looked like it was a ridiculous question.

            “Because?!   That’s not a reason.”

            “Dori’s a bloke,” Nori said, moving off.  “You’re a girl!” 

            Bilbo saw a few others who were in earshot nod in agreement.  Bilbo now understood why everyone was giving her clothes to mend, having her cook and clean!  Because she was the only female in the group!

            Bilbo was going to smack a Dwarf!  _Any_ Dwarf.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going with canon here, as The Company were actually travelling through the mountains for two weeks after leaving Rivendell, before they were captured by the Goblins.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes a decision

* * *

 

 

            For the next three days, Bilbo decided that if the damn Dwarrow want something done, they can bloody well do it themselves!  She was not going to be their … well, _slave_ , just because she was the only female! 

            In fact, so adamant were her feelings on the subject, she refused to even eat their food.  She had, serendipitously and wisely, packed some dried meat and food stuff in her sack when she packed her old clothes; she wanted to be prepared and extra material for mending and extra food were deemed appropriate.

              Granted, she not only ate along, but after the first day of refusing to mend, wash, cook, and generally act as their maid, she did everything alone as the others began to ignore her. 

            Well, most.  Fili, Kili, Nori, Bofur, and Bombur were the main ones.  They all huddled together and whispered, throwing pouty, petulant looks in Bilbo’s direction the more she refused to complete their chores, but she would not budge!

            Bifur, Oin and Gloin kept to themselves and didn’t seem to give Bilbo a second thought.  Uncomfortable though that was to be ignored, at least they didn’t look down or seem to pity Bilbo; she could live with that.  

            Dori and Ori also kept to themselves but she would find Ori looking at her with something … was it concern? … in his eyes, but naturally, Dori’s fussing didn’t seem to allow the boy any time to speak with Bilbo.  Most likely, Dori, being so superstitious and disliking anything remotely unnatural, was simply keeping Ori away from Bilbo; least Ori catch Bilbo’s condition or something.  Again, disconcerting, but Bilbo didn’t want to dislike either brother.

            Balin avoided her as did Dwalin, but then they were always with Thorin and, of course, he didn’t look at her twice!  In the eight days since they left Rivendell, Thorin had still not looked at Bilbo beyond fleeting glances or angry scowls when caught giving said glances.

            Not that Bilbo was going to go begging for his attention!  _Confound the damn Dwarf!_ Bilbo thought bitterly as she ate her meager rations.  _If he wants to continue to be a pig-headed, arrogant, condescending, son-of-a …_

“Mistress Baggins!”

            Bilbo was shaken from her internal musings at the sound of her named snarled across the camp.  Looking up, she had only a few seconds to register that Thorin was striding towards her with a thunderous look upon his face and fire in his eyes.

            “You bellowed?” Bilbo said, stealing herself for whatever was coming.

            “What is it you think you’re doing?!”

            “Care to elaborate?”

            Thorin gestured towards her.  “This!”

            _Yeah, because that narrows it down._   “Do you mean eating?”  Bilbo took another bite of the dried venison and waited.

            “I do not!” Thorin growled.   “Are my nephews correct?”  Thorin demanded towering over Bilbo.

            _I refused to be intimidated._   Bilbo stood up, straightened her skirt and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Correct about, _what_ , exactly?”

            Thorin inflated in his ire. “That you have refused to pull your weight!”

            Bilbo turned her head and glared at the two princes, both of whom were huddled with their little group and looking anywhere but at Bilbo.

            Bilbo huffed out a sigh.  “I refuse to—”

            “Let me make this clear,” Thorin cut across Bilbo and stepping closer, “Either you pull your weight like the other … like …” Thorin stammered over his words, “… like _everyone else_ or you can bloody well turn around and go back to the damn tree-shaggers!”

            Bilbo was stunned.  No, she was shocked!  “It’s unfair—”

            “Don’t speak to me of unfair!” Thorin spat out.  Not waiting for a response, the Dwarf-king turned and marched back across the camp to sit with Balin and Dwalin, continuing whatever discussion they were having before.

            However, the entire mood of the group had changed and there was now a cold, icy feeling about the night, regardless of the warmth of the fire.

            What surprised Bilbo the most, even after all the days of being ignored, of being glared at, of being dismissed, overlooked, apparently viewed as unworthy if her assessment was correct, was, that forgetting all that had passed between them, Bilbo was dismayed, saddened, and not a little hurt, at Thorin’s now hatred of her.  She missed terribly the Thorin that was before, the one that talked lightly of the stars, of their commonalities, of their likes and dislikes; she missed the Dwarf she had been falling in love with. 

            He was gone and she would not get him back. 

            So despondent, so dejected, Bilbo didn’t even look up or even acknowledge the pair of pants that were dropped in her lap for mending; she simply reached for her kit and began to work, hoping it will dull the ache in her heart.

            It didn’t.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Two days later, there wasn't time to worry about mending clothes or cooking or cleaning up, or anything really; other than staying alive!

            _Stone Giants?!_   _Seriously?!_  Bilbo couldn’t believe her luck, bad as it was. 

            All she could do was thank the Green Lady for wide, large, leathery Hobbit feet!  If she hadn’t been able to basically grip the slim, mountain path with her feet, she would have gone right over the edge as soon as the damn giant started moving!

            Of course, after crashing into the mountain’s side as the defeated beast fell onto the valley floor, it was her very feet that finally betrayed her; one false move and she slipped, dangling over the edge of the mountain and holding on for her life!

            “Where’s Bilbo?!  Where’s the Hobbit?!”

            So scared, Bilbo couldn’t even cry out for help.

            “THERE!”

            She tried to get a grip with her feet but the mountain wall was slick, slippery with rain.

            “GET HER!”

            All the Dwarrow seemed to surge forward but it was Bofur and Ori who dove the quickest and reached; each attempting to grab one of her wrists.  But she slipped further and she could only felt the lightest of touches of Ori’s fingertips; she was still out of reach of the young Dwarf.

            “ORI, BE CAREFUL!”

            She was going to die.  She was loosing her grip and she was going to fall to her death.  She knew it.  And just as she closed her eyes, resigned to her fate, there was a great bellow and suddenly, Thorin was there, hauling her up, saving her life.

            Once more on solid ground, Bilbo could only heave great gulps of air, unable to say or do anything at that moment.

            “I thought we lost our burglar,” Dwalin groused.

            Bilbo looked up and locked eyes with Thorin; a chill ran down her spine at the look she received.

            “She been lost since, ever since she left Rivendell,” Thorin said darkly.  “She should never have come.  She has no place amongst us.”

            There is was.  She was not wanted, in any way, shape or form.  Thorin no longer held any regard for her, only contempt. 

            Her choice was clear.

 

 

 


	7. Seven

* * *

 

           

            Everyone had finally settled and Bilbo knew that now was her chance.

            She was leaving; she’d had enough.

            If she was lucky, she would be able to follow the path in the opposite direction and make it back to Rivendell relatively quickly. After all, she wouldn’t be dependent on others or move to their schedule and frankly, being a hobbit, could easily eat on the move.  Granted, it had taken almost two weeks to reach this point since leaving Elrond’s house, but now she would be traveling alone; she could make better time.

            Her sack packed and her sword secured, she picked up her walking stick and made for the tunnel entrance.  She hoped that Bofur, tired and exhausted as the others, had fallen asleep and that she could slip by unnoticed; no such luck.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” Bofur was on his feet in seconds.

            She would not be dissuaded.  “Back to Rivendell.”

            “No, no, no,” Bofur was on his feet in moments.  “You can’t turn back now.  You’re part of the company.  You’re one of us!”

            “I’m not though,” Bilbo almost released a bitter laugh. “Am I?”

            Bofur, looked like he wanted to disagree, but Bilbo rushed on.

            “Thorin said I should never have come,” Bilbo said point blank but Bofur once again, didn’t disagree.  “And he was right. I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins; I don’t know what I was thinking.”  _That’s a lie,_ Bilbo’s inner voice said.  _You know perfectly well why and for whom you left your home for; of all the things you can deny, your love isn’t one of them._ “I should never have run out my door.”  It was a whispered thing, more to herself than to anyone else.

            “You’re homesick,” Bofur said.  “I understand.”

            “No, you don’t!”  Bilbo insisted. “You don’t understand; none of you do! You’re Dwarves! You’re used to … to … to this life, living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!” It was true, in a way, how could Bofur understand that to a Hobbit, home, roots, loving one person, belonging to each other was what defined her race.  She had been a fool to love; look where it got her.  But in the next second, she realized her mistake. “Look … I’m sorry, I—” _Dammit._ She’d just done to all the Dwarves what she felt they had done to her, judged them based on conceptions and role, not on their merits.  She really needed to leave.

            “No, you’re right,” Bofur said, surprising her and maybe – maybe understanding what Bilbo was trying to convey.  “We don’t belong anywhere.”

            Bilbo felt badly, she hadn’t meant to hurt Bofur – of all people. But then maybe Bofur was saying more than just belonging in a place; maybe it was belong in a world where they truly fit in and maybe, he really did understand what she was going through.

            “I wish you all the luck in the world,” Bofur said, his small smile confirming what Bilbo suspected.  “I really do.”

            Bilbo gave her friend one last smile and turned to go; it was time.

            “What’s that?”

            Bofur’s question stopped her in her tracks and following Bofur’s eye line, she saw that her sword was emitting a glow; a bluish glow and as she slowly withdrew the weapon, the glow only got more bright and intense.

            _The blade glows blue when Orcs or Goblins are near._ Gandalf’s words rushed back to her.  _Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! Goblins!_   Bilbo looked up and for a brief moment, locked eyes with Thorin, who was now wide awake, and saw that he had too must be hearing Gandalf’s words echoing in his mind.

            “Wake up!” Thorin shouted.  “WAKE UP!”

            Too late.

            It was too late.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            If there was one thing funny about falling down into a mountain it would have to be … well, actually there wasn’t anything funny about it.

            Bilbo was dead sore. From the tumbling down the slide-like Goblin trap-door, landing on the crude wooden platform, the wrestling match with that disgustingly stinky Goblin, only to twist her ankle and loose her footing, then go bouncing off the stony walls of the mountain and careening down the twisting crevasse, and finally to land on a thick patch of Mountain Mushrooms – thank Yavanna for those.  It was no wonder she was already stiff and aching all over.  But she had to admit, she was oh so grateful to be alive.

            Well, except for one, tiny, little thing; the company.

            Her mother always said, _‘One never appreciates the cake as much as when you have finished the last piece.’_   In other words, she realized quite suddenly and painfully that she was now far away and hopelessly separated from her Dwarfs; and she missed them. No, she feared for them; what terrible and awful things were the Goblins doing to them at that very moment? She had to find a way back.

            Of course, it would help if she knew where in the name of Mahal’s Hairy Arse she was! (She had heard Thorin use that once, and while at the time felt it was excessively irreverent, she now felt it was quite appropriate.)

            Taking a deep breath and pushing herself up, she was just about to sit up when she heard it.

            “Yes,” hissed a voice from the dark.  “Yes … yes!”

            A creature, bald and wet looking – like something ill and feverish – came crawling out of the shadows, crawling like an insect and came to crouch over the barely moving Goblin that had fallen with her down the mountain shaft.  The thing began to cough, _Gollum … Gollum_ , wet and sickly sounding.

            She watched, horrified as the Goblin sprang to life and proceeded to grapple with the sallow-skinned … _thing_ , whatever it was.  For just a moment, Bilbo was convinced the Goblin would win, it was bigger and more muscular looking that the wretched thing it fought, but the … ‘Gollum’ creature was brutal; it picked up a rock and beat the Goblin about the head and face until the Goblin collapsed, unconscious and Gollum began to drag it away.

            “Nasty … Goblinses,” Gollum bitched to himself,  “Better than old bones, Percious … better than nothing!”

            Only when Gollum had rounded the corner, did Bilbo dare come out of hiding. If she needed any reminding of how dangerous her current situation was, she could not have found a better example; she had to get out of there.

            Moving to a sitting position, she tentatively got on her hands and knees until she was sure that there was nothing broken; she was bruised, but that was all.

            She crawled out of the mushrooms and made to stand when her hand touched something; something round, metal and … well, it was slightly warm.  Grasping whatever it was with her fingers, she pulled them back and discovered she held a ring in her hands.  It was a simple, gold band, and yet, she was filled with a sense of intrigue, of desire, of … want; she wanted it for her own.  She took it.  She found it and it was hers. She dared anyone to challenge her …

            “Ahhh,” Gollum’s voice echoed through the chamber.  “Too many bones, Precious … not enough flesh!”

            As if another person, Gollum answered himself, “Shut up!”

            _How odd._   As if two people lived inside one body.  Bilbo would have been more curious had she not already determined that she didn’t care, she only wanted to get out.  Well, get out and protect her ring.

            She tiptoed around the rocky cavern and came to the edge of what was apparently a vast, underground lake.  Once more she watched, disgusted and horrified as Gollum not only continued to bash the wiggling Goblin in the head but she couldn’t control the tiny gasp as he finally landed a killing blow.  She ducked around the rock outcropping she was next to when she feared Gollum might have seen her and watched as, indeed, the blue glow of her sword flickered and went out with the Goblin’s last heartbeat.

            She looked back, checking to make sure that … thing, hadn’t seen her, but she froze.  _Where is it?!_

            She startled as Gollum sprang down from above; coming face to face.

            “Blesses and splashes, Precious!” Gollum’s smile was as repugnant as his little songs. “That’s a meaty mouthful!”

            _Excuse me? A MOUTHFUL!?”_ Bilbo raised her sword as Gollum advanced and felt no remorse pointing the tip right into the hollow of Gollum’s throat. “Let me make this clear for you,” She said, slowly standing.  “I have not endured all this just to be eaten by the likes of you.”  Well, she didn’t want to be eaten at all, let alone by Gollum but that was beside the point.  “I’ve got places to go and people to save, and I’m sure you want to get back to your …” _What was the appropriate word for Goblin brains?_ “… sweetbread.”  Bilbo shuttered to think on it.  “So, why not just show me the way out and we can both get back to our lives.”

            For some odd reason, Gollum didn’t seem to in hurry.

            “It’s got an Elfish blade, but it’s not an Elfs.”

            No shit.

            “What is it, precious?”  Gollum looked at Bilbo like she was a rock come to life.  “What is it.”

            Sighing, she figured she go with it for now.  “My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

            “Bagginses?” Gollum seemed to chew on that answer. “What’s a ‘Bagginses’, precious?”

            “I’m a Hobbit … from the Shire.”

            “Oh!” Gollum was all excited now.  “Oh! We like Goblinses, batses, and fishes, but we hasn’t tried Hobbitses before. Is it soft? Is it juicy?”

            Bilbo just arched an eyebrow.  “You take a step closer,” she moved the sword to point at Gollum’s groin.  “And I’ll cut off something soft.”

            Gollum sneered and stuck out his tongue but kept his distance.

            “Look, I don’t know what your game is, but I -”

            “Games?” Gollum practically lit up with joy. “We loves games! Doesn’t we, Precious? Does it like games? Does it? Does it? Does it like to play?”

             _What the …_   “Maybe?”

            “What has roots as nobody sees,” Gollum started, “is taller than trees. Up, up, up it goes, and yet, never grows.”

            “The mountain,” Bilbo said dryly.

            Gollum laughed with the correct answer, but Bilbo had to fight an eye-roll.  _Seriously? I now have to play games?_

            “Yess, yess, oh, let’s have another one. Yes, come on, do it, do it again. Ask us.”

            If the damn thing wanted to play games, so be it; Bilbo would use it to her advantage. “Fine.  But if I win, you show me the way out.”

            “Yes. Yes … but,” Gollum turned away as it’s other side snarled awake.  “If it loses? What then?”  Gollum giggled and answered himself.  “Well, if it loses, Precious, we will eats it!”  Gollum turned back to Bilbo and for the first time, Bilbo was truly terrified.  “If Baggins loses, we eats it whole.”

            Shit. What choice did she have? “Fair enough.”

            And so it went, Gollum asking a riddle, then Bilbo, then Gollum – back and forth for what seemed ages; all the while Bilbo’s internal clock ticking down the seconds, reminding her that her precious time was slipping away.

            But as Bilbo continued to answer question after question and Gollum grew more and more frustrated that he was not winning, it became clear to Bilbo that Gollum was losing all patience and she would probably end up fighting her way out of there.

            But she still didn’t know where to even start looking for a way out!

            “Last question. Last chance. Ask us a question. Ask us!!”

            “Yes, yes … alright.” Bilbo is stumped. What the hell should she ask? She’s exhausted her known ones and had been lucky to make up a few off the fly, but now?   She stuck her hand in her pocket and felt something hard and warm. What the hell is … “What have I got in my pocket?”  It was to herself really, but she said it aloud.

            Yet, Gollum didn't understand that.  “That’s not fair,” Gollum spat out. “It’s not fair! It’s against the rules.”  Gollum tossed the rock he’d been clutching to the ground like a petulant child. “Ask us another one.”

            But no, it was brilliant; Bilbo instantly seized onto Gollum’s mistake. “No, no, no. You said _‘Ask us a question.’_  Well, that is my question.  What have I got in my pocket?”

            Gollum snarled and took a step towards his would-be prey.   However, Bilbo already had her sword up and ready. Gollum backed down. “Three guesses, Precious. It must give us three.”

            “Three guesses. Very well, then, guess away.”

            “Handses!”

            Bilbo held up her free hand. “Wrong … guess again.”

            Gollum grumbled to himself, going over a list of things.  “Fish-bones, goblins’ teeth, wet shells, bat’s wings ... Knife!”  Gollum’s other half didn’t like that. “Oh, shut up.”

            Bilbo was ecstatic. “Wrong again. Last guess.”

            “String!”  Gollum cried with a smile, before his other side said with a sneer, “Or nothing.”

            “Two guesses at once,” Bilbo sang with a smug smile.  “Wrong both times.” Gollum collapsed on the cave floor and wept.  “I won the game, you promised to show me the way out.”

            Gollum’s tears ceased instantly and his maniacal other half flashed in his eyes as he turned slowly to gaze on Bilbo with pure malice.  “Did we say so, Precious? Did we say so?”  Gollum once more advanced on Bilbo.  “What has it got in its pocketses?”

            Bilbo knew this wasn’t good; not good at all.  “That’s no concern of yours. You lost.”

            “Lost? Lost? Lost?” Gollum reached into the waistband on his filthy loincloth and then froze.  “Where is it? Where is it? No! Where is it? No!”  He shifted around on the floor and splashed in the water, frantic in a way that only someone desperate would be.  “Lost! Curse us and crush us, my precious is lost!”

            Realizing exactly what is lost, Bilbo quickly removed her ring from her pocket and held it tight in her hand; feigning ignorance.  “What have you lost?”

            Gollum had no time for questions.  “Mustn't ask us! Not its business! No!”  _Gollum … gollum._   But as his coughing subsided, he looked into the water and comprehension dawned upon him and he asked his reflection, “What has it got in its nasty little pocketses?”

            Bilbo clutched the ring even tighter and her feet itched to flee.

            Gollum turned around and screamed, “She stole it.  She stole it! SHE STOLE IT!”

            Time to go.

 

 

 


End file.
